


Make This Feel Like Home

by octoberish



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Breakup, Crying, Fluff, Gay, Heartbreak, Home, Hurt, LGBTQ Themes, Love, M/M, No Smut, Ofc harry buys gucci to make himself feel better, One Shot, Pain, Red Ruby Slippers, Short, Song: Home (One Direction), Wizard of Oz References, gucci, i wrote this at 2am bear with me here, i'll make this feel like home, it hurt to write, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, lol but not as short as louis, stylinson, there's no place like home, very angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 20:28:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoberish/pseuds/octoberish
Summary: "there's no place like home, my dear"or, the one where louis and harry break up, harry clicks his new ruby red gucci heels together just to see what happens, and ends up in louis' arms.





	Make This Feel Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! so this fic would not have been possible without karla, @thelouiefactor, on twitter. she tweeted out this idea and it ended up on my timeline. when i saw she probably wasn't going to write it, i knew i had to. so instead of sleeping, i once again stayed up late to write this. i'm really happy and proud of how it turned out! so a huge thanks to karla for having literally the most amazing idea that inspired this one shot! i hope you all enjoy and like it :) it's also available on wattpad (same title and username) if you prefer to read it there !!

Harry felt like he was dying.

That's pretty much it, he was sure he was. Because the ache in his chest was so fucking bad, his heart throbbed with hurt and longing. It spread through his veins, pumping within his blood. He could feel it in every muscle and every bone.

It had been two weeks since Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson broke up.

The world didn't know, hell, they didn't even know they were dating. Many fans speculated, throwing theories around— which in hindsight, were right all along. Until they weren't.

Because two weeks ago, the two fought. It wasn't one of their usual arguments where they get over it in a couple of hours, begging for forgiveness with kisses and cuddles. It wasn't a little bicker about Louis not putting the dishes in the dishwasher or his dirty clothes in the laundry basket, even though Harry reminded him a million times. No, it was about them. Their relationship, how they were forced into hiding. For years, they had been keeping it a secret, since the very beginning. And even after One Direction broke up, it needed to be kept quiet because of their fucking management.

Harry could still remember the pain in Louis' eyes. They had been sitting on the couch, Louis' legs resting on Harry's thighs with Harry rubbing small, gentle circles onto them with the pad of his thumb. It was like any other normal day when they weren't busy in the studio or doing photo shoots for magazines and promo. Harry doesn't even know how it happened and he's been thinking about it every second these past two weeks, yet he still can't figure it out. It was like all of a sudden a light switched on in Louis', releasing all his frustrations.

"Harry, I think we should break up," Louis said out of the blue. Harry thought it was a joke at first, so he snorted out a "yeah, okay."

Except, Louis wasn't joking. "Harry, I'm serious."

This made Harry straighten up immediately as Louis retracted his legs to rest his head on his knees. He looked up at Harry with blue, dull eyes. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I um.. I think that we should break up," Louis repeated once more, confirming Harry's suspicions of him being crazy. Harry's mind started racing a mile a minute, he didn't understand, he couldn't. His brain couldn't comprehend it, he stared at Louis, dumbfounded and silent.

"I just... I can't do this anymore." Harry could hear Louis' voice starting to get a bit shaky and Harry just wanted to reach out and hug all his fears away.

"Do what anymore?" Harry asked softly, confused and in denial.

"Us, Harry! We've been hiding for us nine years. nine fucking years. I'm sick of having a beard, I'm sick of not being able to be seen with you in public, I'm sick of it all." Louis' voice was pelting out anger, his rage clenching between his teeth which each word he spoke.

"Louis, c'mon, you don't really mean that," Harry said, trying to convince himself more than Louis because fuck, this is just the very beginning and he can already feel his heart splitting into two.

"I do, I really do. I wish I didn't, but I'm so tired, Harry. There's only so much I can take," Louis said, his voice breaking near the end. Harry looked him right in the eyes and it was right there and then that Harry realized how oblivious he's been.

He should've noticed how distant Louis had been lately, all the times he'd skip their every night dinners, saying he was stuck in the studio— which rarely happened before then, Louis always made it a point to be home for dinner. And all the times that Louis had to go get papped with Eleanor, he seemed more upset than usual. Because both are always sad about it, but Louis... was just different when it happened nowadays. And Harry should've noticed how Louis had become less loud, less himself in the past two years. He laughed, but it wasn't boisterous like it used to be, and he smiled, but it didn't make the crinkles by his eyes appear, and he chatted, but it wasn't as much as it used to be. Harry has been a terrible boyfriend, not even realizing how affected his partner was.

"Please, Lou, we can work through this. We always do," Harry pleaded, tears already streaming down his cheeks as he started to choke up.

Louis bit his lip and tore his gaze away from Harry, looking straight ahead at the television, "I don't think we can this time, Haz." His voice was soft, gentle and it reminded Harry of all the times they've woken up next to each other and Louis would whisper praise and sweet-nothings into Harry's ear while playing with his hair.

Harry couldn't believe this was happening, it felt like his body was in overdrive and he's just slowly shutting down. "Of course we can. It's you and me, Louis and Harry. We've always been together. And we'll continue to be together, just like it should be, right?" Harry was practically begging because he couldn't bear the pain of losing Louis. He really couldn't, he's not sure he'll make it out of this alive.

"That's just the problem. It's always been Louis and Harry. I need time to figure out who I am. I'm 27 for god's sake and I'm struggling with myself." Louis' voice raised a bit and Harry winced, feeling it hit right into his heart.

Harry had never been one to act out of anger, he usually was peaceful and believed in resolving conflicts quietly. But the pain was so strong, so raw and fresh, that he just couldn't help himself. "What, so just nine fucking years down the drain? What was all of it for then? Just for fun? To play with my heart and then fucking destroy it?"

Louis' head snapped towards Harry immediately, eyes wide with tears. He quickly rushed over to Harry's side of the couch, cupping his face into his soft, small hands. "No, no, of course not. It's always been real with you, Harry. I love you, so much. And I'm sure I always will. But I'm tired, Haz. I just need a break."

"A break.." Harry repeated slowly, drawling out the words like they were poison on his tongue. Louis nodded, "a break."

It was silent for a couple of minutes and Louis returned back to his spot on the couch, away from the younger lad. Harry fucking hated it. He hated the silence. He wanted to scream, to shout and yell and fuck, maybe even through a mug or two at the wall(not at Louis though, he could never even dream of that). But he didn't.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Lou," Harry finally spoke, disappointed loud and clear through his words, practically slicing Louis with a knife.

"I don't know either," Louis said honestly, fumbling with his fingers. "I just need this to be over."

_Over, over, I just need this to be over. Over. Over._

"Fuck you, Louis Tomlinson. Fuck. You," Harry spat, rage filling up in his body again.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Louis cried out in sobs, streaks of tears sliding down his face.

"No, you're really not," Harry said bitterly, tasting the venom he spoke. "I think it's best if you leave."

Louis started to cry harder and Harry although, fuming, just wanted to kiss him and his tears away and assure him that they could get through this. But it wasn't up to Harry for that to happen.

"Okay."

So Louis packed up the most he could in the little time he had. He did it slowly as if dreading leaving, and it gave Harry a bit of hope and a lot of guilt for being so harsh.

With a suitcase in Louis' left hand and fresh tears still rolling by the front door, Harry called out to him one last time. "Louis?"

Louis turned around, letting Harry get a full view on just how broken his little Lou was. Harry's heart panged with a sharp sting, something that zipped from the bottom of his spine all the way up to his neck. "Is this really what you want?" Harry asked, hopeful yet afraid for the answer.

Louis was quiet for a moment, pursing his lips together before opening them. "Yeah, it is."

Harry couldn't fucking feel anything at the moment except the flowers burning in his chest and the fire swallowing him whole. Harry wanted to say something hurtful, to make Louis writhe from attacking words that Harry directed to him and him only. But looking at Louis' tired face with permanent frown lines etched onto it, he just knew he couldn't. Because Louis deserves the world and more and Harry couldn't give that to him. It hurt Harry more than he would've ever imagined, it hurt so badly it felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing him over and over again until he simply just wasn't breathing anymore. And Harry just couldn't bear the thought of putting Louis through this type of pain.

So he let Louis walk out the door and his life. He let Louis go. He let all of it fucking go. He had spent the next five hours sitting by that door, waiting for Louis to come back and kiss him passionately, mumbling how he was wrong and made a mistake onto Harry's lips and his skin. Louis never came back.

Two weeks later and here Harry is, laying in what used to be _their bed_, crying and sniffing crazily at the pillows, trying to catch at least the faintest scent of Louis that's been fading since he left. Vanilla and cinnamon, it was embedded into the pillow for such a long time, into Harry's mind, but now it's gone and it's slowly working its way out of both systems and Harry fears he soon won't remember the mixed scent at all. Harry hadn't left the flat ever since that day, even with Liam, Zayn, and Niall banging on his door, he didn't let anyone in or anyone out. The boys texted and called and showed up to the house numerous times, but Harry ignored it all. Because none of them were Louis, and if they weren't Louis, then they didn't matter at the moment.

Many days, Harry walked around the apartment, seeing the little touch of Louis in everything. Like on their bookshelf, Louis had put a book on how to make your penis larger on it because he thought it was funny when guests came over. Or how Louis used to attempt to cook in the kitchen but always let Harry take over because well, he couldn't cook at all, really. And the couch where they used to cuddle while Harry read books to Louis because Louis said he liked hearing his voice. Even a fucking mug because every morning, Louis would make tea for both him and Harry, and it was always perfect, with just the right amount of sugar. But the worst, the worst was their bed. Because that's where they spent a lot of their time, making love, tracing over each others matching tattoos, sharing late-night thoughts and secrets since they were in their teens.

The whole flat was a reminder of Louis and Harry couldn't go a day while being in it without having a full-on mental breakdown. He'd cry and sob, snot running down his nose and tears wetting his skin. He'd scream out in agony, hoping it would release even just the smallest amount of pain that his heart had taken on. And then some days, it was the quiet breakdown. The one where it just hurts so fucking much that he would just lay there, silent tears and all, hoping death would take over.

So yeah, Harry Styles knew he was fucking dying because all he felt was a constant, persistent affliction that just wouldn't go away no matter how much he wanted it to. The truth was, the only way it would really go away is if Louis knocked on his door right now. But Harry knew he had to be realistic and knew that it wouldn't happen and that just made it hurt all so much more.

It was like Louis had grown a garden inside of him, filled with all sorts of pretty flowers and vines. Lilies, daisies, roses, petunias, tulips, and many more with different colors and sizes. But now, Louis had lit a match and threw it so carelessly into the garden. Harry's flowers were burning and dying, in a slow yet rapid rate. His lungs were filled with black smoke, so dark that he feared it was too fatal for a garden to ever grow again. Harry couldn't breathe.

The fans were starting to worry. It had been two weeks since they've seen either Louis or Harry. It's not unusual for Harry to be inactive on social media, but he'd usually get spotted somewhere at least once a week. For Louis, he was usually active on Twitter every couple of days. But Harry couldn't care less. He couldn't even bring himself to look at his phone with his lock screen of him and Louis kissing at midnight on New Years and his home screen of just Louis smiling, crinkles, sunshine, and all.

Harry wonders how many times Louis had faked a smile even though he felt like he was dying in their relationship. He wonders how many times Louis stayed up late thinking about how he was done with everything while Harry laid beside him, sleeping peacefully. And he wonders how many fucking times Louis said "I love you" but didn't really mean it.

Fuck, Harry can't keep doing this to himself. He's tearing himself apart, Louis left broken pieces behind that Harry doesn't bother to place back together, instead, he just rips them up even more.

"Harry, open this fucking door right now." It was followed by a bunch of banging and Harry knew it was Liam with Zayn and Niall behind him for the twentieth time this week. But strangely, Harry let his weak bones carry him to the door, his body dragging itself. Harry doesn't feel any energy, he's barely eaten, having no appetite and throwing up anything that he does manage to swallow down.

He opens the door regretfully and was immediately attacked with bone-crushing hugs and a million of words directed to him. The three boys broke away from Harry and went into the living room.

"How are you holding up?" Liam asked gently, always being the softer one. Harry stared at him blankly, not uttering a word while he thinks _'I'm not'._

Liam recognizes this in the silence and immediately Harry is engulfed in another hug. The other two boys sat timidly, watching the gesture.

"It'll be okay," Liam spoke into his ear and Harry closed his eyes and wished for nothing more than for it to be Louis.

"No, it really won't." It was the first words he's spoken in days, his voice croaky and tear-filled.

From that day on, the three boys haven't left Harry's side. Harry felt bad, they were just doing damage control, really. And Harry wasn't really making any progress. He seemed to be happier around the boys, but when they left after dinner and the night came, Harry was back in their bed, bawling his eyes out while watching _The Wizard of Oz_ when Dorothy clicks her red heels together because really, Harry just wants to go home but he can't because Louis is his home.

The weeks pass on slowly and painfully, Harry still feels as shitty as he did the day Louis walked out. They say it takes time to heal but that's bullshit because it's been four months and Harry still watches that damn movie with the ruby red slippers every night and cries.

He often wonders how Louis is doing. The boys haven't let him use his phone much, revoking his social media privileges in fear he'd just look up Louis. And they're not wrong, because he was about to do it in his laptop before Zayn came into his room to ask what he wanted for dinner and immediately shut that down.

Somehow, the boys had convinced him to go out. He doesn't know how they did it(it was a lot of pulling and tugging on Harry's limbs) but they did and now he's stuck in Zayn's car and they won't even tell Harry where they're going.

That was until they parked and Harry saw the huge GUCCI sign in big, bold letters. For the first time in four months, Harry's eyes lit up. Because if there was one thing that Harry loves other than Louis, it was Gucci.

He sent a grateful look towards all three of his best friends, which they returned with a smile. Then he took off, running full speed to enter the store. He walked inside and was fully prepared to spend all his problems away. At least for a little bit.

Harry browsed all the aisles, grabbing a few shirts and trousers here and there, and then he made it to the shoe section. He walked through it casually, not really wanting any new footwear. But then last second, something caught his eyes.

_Ruby red Gucci slippers._

Tears welled up in his eyes and he took heavy deep breaths to prevent a breakdown. They were absolutely beautiful, a deep, shiny red, a bit glittery and reflective and it had a slight heel. Harry immediately grabbed a box in his size. He practically ran to the cashier, setting all his items down in which the lady, Robin, her name tag read, scanned them all. He paid for them and left the store. The boys were still waiting in the car for him, which thank god because the bag was a bit heavier than Harry expected.

"What'd you get, Haz?" Niall asked and Harry tried to ignore that pang in his heart from the nickname Louis had called him so many times before.

"Just some clothes," Harry murmured quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. The thing is, Harry hasn't really spoken all that much since the breakup, and when he did, it's always so silent and tiny. It was in such a manner that he makes himself seem so small.

The boys continued on chatting while Harry stared out the window, his mind wandering far, far away from here and back to just months ago when he and Louis were sharing a chocolate cake together and giggling about the cream all over their faces. That was a good night, one where Louis was just so damn giddy and it, of course, rubbed off on Harry and soon enough they were both happily acting like idiots, together. But now, Harry wonders if all of that was fake. If Louis even enjoyed that night as much as he seemed to have; if Louis was just pretending. Harry's heart clenched at the thought. He feels like everything had been a lie and he had been so fucking naive to believe it.

When they arrived back at Harry's, Liam asked if he would be okay on his own. Harry nodded even though, really he wouldn't be. But he wouldn't be okay even with the lads sticking around, so what difference does it make?

So Harry walked into his flat, still spotting Louis' imprint in every single piece of furniture they owned and every single object that was laying around. The boys had tried their best to get rid of Louis' trace in the apartment, they helped Harry ship all of Louis' belongings back to him. But still, Harry would find the occasional hoodie on their closet floor(that Harry would then end up wearing for a week straight and refusing to take it off) or the stupid polaroids they used to take either together or just of the other randomly(Harry would then clutch them in his hand as he cried himself to sleep. Then he'd wake up to it being crushed and would just cry all over again). And it wasn't just Louis' possessions that drove Harry crazy, but it was also the memories that came along with everything in this apartment. Every single little thing related to Louis, no matter how much he didn't want it to. Because in the end, it was always Louis, and it always will be.

Harry went into his bedroom, dropping the Gucci bag on the floor and flopping onto the gray sheets of his bed face first. He snuggled into Louis' side, grasping his Adidas hoodie in his hand and trying to believe it was Louis.

Harry woke up hours later when the sun was down and not even remembering when he had fallen asleep. He sat up, his movements sluggish and tired. Harry just felt drained, physically and emotionally drained. He didn't feel anything other than empty at the moment. Which is quite scary because, for the past few months, Harry has felt nothing but complete and utter raw anguish. But it was kind of relieving in a way, that he didn't feel that way anymore. It felt more like a pit at the bottom of his stomach now(and it wasn't from the fact that he hasn't eaten at all today). It was like his heart was dropped down there, just resting until it could manage it's way back up. Harry wasn't sure if it could get back to his chest.

He slowly got off the bed, stretching and cracking all of his bones. He felt weak, like even just a slight push of the wind could throw him onto the ground. His head was dizzy and he had to wait a moment for all the black spots to disappear. He knew he needed water, and he needed it now.

It took Harry a while to get to the kitchen. He'd stop and see the empty spots in the hallway where pictures of him and Louis used to hang from. Or he'd notice the slight dent in the floorboard when Louis accidentally dropped one of Harry's weights for working out when they first moved in years ago. And he froze when he finally did make it to the kitchen because he saw avocados and was reminded of all the times Louis made fun of him for eating those 'horrid' things. Then he shook his head, grabbed a glass and filled it up with water. He downed it completely, all in one go. He filled it up again and it was another long journey to get back to his room.

Harry sets the water on his dresser when he arrives back in his room. He was about to get into bed when he saw the Gucci bag sitting on the floor. He bit his lip and walked over to it. He pulled out the shoebox and opened it up, eyes widening once more at the beautiful Gucci red shoes.

Harry quickly put them on, excited to see how they'd fit. And they were perfect, they hugged his feet just how they should and to be honest, they were quite comfortable. He took off the tags and walked over to the body-sized mirror, inspecting the shoes. Harry had a feeling that if Louis saw these, he'd roll his eyes fondly, call them "an interesting choice" and kiss Harry on the forehead. Harry looked down at his feet, entranced by the shoes when suddenly he got an idea.

He felt a bit silly, but he stood up straight, fixing his posture as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Quietly, he whispered out the words full of hope and passion, "there's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home." He clicked his heels three times throughout his sentences.

Harry had his eyes clenched so tightly the entire time that he could still feel the strain when he allowed them to relax. But then he fluttered his eyes open and—

It was morning now and Harry was in a bed. _Their bed_. He could feel a heat of warmth encasing him, and in a way, it was a bit heavy in. He glanced down at his stomach and _holy shit_, there was no fucking way. He followed the line of tattoos up the arm and onto the face. And fuck, there he was. Louis Tomlinson, the love of Harry's life. The sunlight poured in from behind their see-through curtains onto his sleeping face, making it glow in its beauty. Harry felt like couldn't breathe, yet he let out a breath of disbelief which landed right onto Louis' face due to the proximity.

Louis stirred at this before his eyes slowly opened, and Harry felt all the air go out of his lungs. For the first time in four months, Harry finally saw Louis' bright blue eyes, and they were happy; so, so happy. Harry lets out a cry, tears already falling freely and he does nothing to stop them. Louis just holds Harry as he cries and blabbers incoherent sentences about how much he's missed Louis and how much he loves him.

Harry can feel the seeds being planted again, all throughout him. He can feel the flowers sprouting and spreading, entangling into each other until every trace of the fire is gone and instead is replaced with the beauty of love. Harry's heart returned to his chest, beating rapidly for Louis, and only for Louis. It found its way back because Harry found his way home.

Louis rubbed Harry's back, arms wrapped around him as he pulled away. Louis smiles gently, his crinkles on display and Harry almost started sobbing again. Then, Louis kissed his forehead and softly whispered, "there's no place like home, dear."

**fin.**


End file.
